


Milking the Fuck out of the Marketing Strategy

by MelaphyreX



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Cursed, I sold my soul in the process of writing this, M/M, electricity and processing power was wasted in the process of bringing this to life, i swear ill write real shit soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelaphyreX/pseuds/MelaphyreX
Summary: The unofficial sequel to A Genius Marketing Strategy, in which Papa III fucks a life-sized Cardinal Copia sex doll plushie.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia Plushie/Papa Emeritus III, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus III
Comments: 27
Kudos: 33





	Milking the Fuck out of the Marketing Strategy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drthicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drthicc/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Genius Marketing Strategy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025413) by [drthicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drthicc/pseuds/drthicc). 



> Guys, I swear I wasn't high or drunk while writing this. I'm just depressed and sleep deprived. I wasn't supposed to put so much effort into this and now look what I've done. I can no longer call myself a child of our dear Tender Father. Anyway, no regrets, just read the godforsaken fic already. Lovingly inspired by and dedicated to drthicc and helaquistx <3  
> (edited to remove a dumb joke that didnt age well)

As it turned out, after the past events of the fuckening, the Copia plushie sold incredibly well and became infamous and well beloved among the band’s fans. Whether this was a work of Satan or a curse from God was yet to be seen. The success of the doll haunted Papa Emeritus III’s sleep nightly and every time he jacked off or did the do (which was not very often because these days he was a lonely fuck), the doll snuck into his thoughts, tormenting him.  
On this particular unfortunate morning, Papa returned to his room from breakfast to find a massive fucking package on his bed with a little note attached. “Please make a day of it and try everything! We need you to have the full experience in order to get your honest review. Enjoy!”  
He set down his “I put the bi in bitch” mug on his desk, already shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear, and that alone put the very fear of Satan into him. As he tore away the wrapping from the package, he could feel a sob building up in his throat. “Life size Cardinal Copia Companion Doll! Built for Your Pleasure! Get Your Cardio in with the Cardi!” the box read. The more he looked at the text on the box, the more obscene the descriptions got. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck,” he mumbled. His eyes bulged out when he read the lines “removable fleshlight for easy cleaning” and ”detachable penis with multiple size options!” As he pulled the huge doll out of the box, the sob in his throat escaped as a small, unholy strangled screeching noise. It was an exact life sized replica of the Copia plushie, but the quality looked almost worse as if it had died twice and been resurrected again for a life of sexual service. Inside the box were several dildos ranging in size from male size S to male size XXL, just as advertised. He couldn’t decide if that meant ass size or dick size, but he tried not to think any more about it since more important questions plagued his mind.  
“A whole day? A whole fucking day??” He was on the verge of tears. A whole fucking day to spend with the life size sex doll version of the potato Copia plush monstrosity. “I fucking hate it here.” He threw on a pair of flame shaped sunglasses and cranked up the volume on a playlist on his phone that he hoped would make him seem badass then he scooped up the Copia doll, bridal style. If he was supposed to make a day of it, then he would damn well make a day of it. He received plenty of stares as he strode through the halls, his music echoing down the corridors. He ignored them all and kept walking like he owned the place. Somewhere behind him lingered a presence of which he was completely oblivious.  
After he reached his destination, he slid into the backseat of the limo. He could feel the driver burning holes into him with his stare. “Where, uh, to? Your Eminence.”  
“Anywhere romantic, like a park.”  
“Pardon?” the driver replied.  
“Oh sorry,” Papa mumbled, blindly digging around for his phone so he could turn off his playlist of Rick Astley’s Greatest Love Songs right as Together Forever was blasting. Once he'd turned the music off (a painful process which took approximately a minute), he continued, “Take us to the nearest park, please.”  
The driver eyed the doll warily for a few seconds while Papa buckled it in next to himself. Then he gave an exhausted shrug and turned around to begin driving. They arrived shortly and Papa quickly made his escape, mumbling something about when to come back.  
He propped the doll up on a bench and then sat down beside it. He opened up the paper bag of bird feed he'd purchased a minute before and scattered a handful on the path in front of them. A bunch of pigeons flocked down to desperately peck at the new food source. “Aren't they just lovely, dear,” Papa remarked, nudging the doll beside him. No response. “... _Absolutely, Papa_...” he whispered, mimicking the Cardinal’s tone: a tone which mysteriously sounded a lot like his own. After doing that, Papa leaned back awkwardly, pain filling his soul owned by Satan. He tossed more feed on the ground, body tense.  
And then something happened. Whether it was by accident or by the literal hand of God reaching down to move it, Papa would never know, but all he did know was that the doll's knubby hand had slid down to grab his bulge, and now he was staring at it in both horror and confused arousal. “What the fuck,” he cried, snatching Plushia’s hand up into his. “Not right here, not right now. Not in front of all these people!”  
Somewhere in the distance, an unnamed Spanish speaking Ghost fan snapped a pic of the former Ghost frontman Papa Emeritus III holding hands with a life-sized Cardinal Copia doll on a park bench so she could post it on every social media platform known to mankind. Significantly further away, the entire United States of America fucking burst into flames, a cause of celebration for many.  
Back on Papa's end, things were very much not going well. He was fighting off both an aggressive, hungry flock of birds and an embarrassing boner. In a last ditch effort to save his pretty fuckboy hair from angry claws, he yeeted the feed sack as far as he could. Which wasn't actually very far because he was a weak little bisexy bitch. This only made things worse because it summoned an even larger amount of birds to fly down and go feral over tasty seeds. He snatched up the doll and hauled ass to the other side of the park where they would be hopefully safe. After he'd taken a moment to catch his breath, he looked around and noticed an ice cream cart. “Ah just what I need.” He set the doll down on a new bench nearby and bought a flake 99 for himself and a red popsicle for Copia. He slid next to the plushie again, whistling in relief. “Finally, some peace.” He held out the popsicle for a moment. “Oh yeah… that’s not gonna work,” he muttered. Papa settled on holding the popsicle down in the doll’s stub hand with his own for support, then he set to quick work on devouring his cone. When 15 minutes had passed and he was almost finished with his ice cream, he was startled by a juicy, fat slapping noise. He quickly looked down to realize that Copia doll’s popsicle had been slowly melting until it finally fell off the stick in a chunky lob onto his chain-laden goth crocs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, kicking it away and wiping at the melted sugar water on his pants and the doll’s cassock. His entire hand was a sticky mess.  
“Napkin....? Sir?” came a voice. Papa looked up to see the man from the ice cream cart holding out a fistful of napkins for him.  
He chuckled awkwardly, feeling the man’s traumatized expression shifting between him and the doll. “Eheheh, uh, yes…. Please…. Fank you.” He sheepishly took the napkins, immediately using them to wipe down all the mess. When everything was decently slush-less, he jumped up, yanking the doll with him, and dashed as if his ass were hanging out the back of his excessively ripped black jeans towards the spot where he was supposed to meet the driver. As soon as the driver pulled up, he threw himself into the backseat. “Movie theater, now,” he demanded, to no reply.  
The movie trip was fairly uneventful except when it became eventful. It was just him and the Copia doll in an empty theater while a random movie played. Papa disassociated almost the entire time and scrolled mindlessly on his clear-cased glittery phone until the guy on screen started going willy nilly on a peach. He fucking choked, sputtering out the sip of root beer he had just taken. He stared at the seat in front of him and his breathing became labored, while his mind turned on itself. After a minute of the cogs turning in his brain, he slowly shifted his gaze to the massive plushie next to him, pressing his lips together awkwardly. He considered a great many things in about 30 seconds. It was really just one thing but it sure as hell felt like a lot. Potato Copia just continued watching the movie with pained interest. He reached his hand out to rub Dolia’s stubby leg tenderly while he lifted his cup with drinking straw curled into the word “bitch” to his lips. Papa glanced back at the screen just in time to see a different guy eating the cum out of the fucked peach and he choked on his fresh sip of root beer yet again. With a jerky movement, he slammed his cup into the holder on his seat, giving up on ever trying to drink another goddamned thing during this movie ever again. As soon as the movie was over, they were absolutely gone from the building, never to be seen there again.  
Their final destination for the evening was a local diner. The waitress eyed the two of them warily before seating them at a table on the porch behind the building, far from any prying eyes or more sensible guests. String lights hung from the wooden beams above them setting for a very romantic scene. Papa ordered a chicken strips meal and a drink that was not root beer for himself and then he ordered a Supa Dupa Fly Ho Burger with cheese and a beer for Hoeuxpia. He gave the waitress a stern, senior moment certifiedTM stare when she asked about an ID for the alcohol, causing her to throw her hands up and leave, muttering under her breath. He let himself get lost in the sex doll’s haunting eyes while they waited for their food. Somewhere in the charred state of Indiana, a surviving teen was listening to Careless Whisper on a CD player and crying, their tears falling down to Lucifer himself. Through this manner, Papa was able to hear the eerie slowed down sexy saxophone solo brapping in the very back of his mind, which provided for fantastic mood-setting music. He barely acknowledged the waitress when she brought their food. She sauntered away, shaking her head and huffing. Papa succeeded in taking about one bite of a chicken strip dipped in ketchup before he just gave up on eating altogether. Nausea was pooling in his stomach as he thought of the night that lay ahead. It was too silent. “Eheheh, hope you’re enjoying your meal…?” The soulless doll did not reply. For a brief moment, Papa pondered if it was possible the doll did actually have a soul. He interrupted his existential thoughts to tease Plushia. “You gonna eat any of those?” he asked, reaching for a fry from the other’s plate and popping it into his mouth. He did all this completely ignoring the fact that he already had a massive fucking stack of the exact same fries on his own plate. He instantly regretted it. He wasn’t really hungry. About an hour or so passed while they just sat there in silence, playing around with their food. To make up for the doll’s lack of movement, he also played around with its plate as well. At one point, he treated himself to a bite of the Supa Dupa Fly Ho burger with cheese and determined it was actually really good and fucking juicy. He made a mental note to come back again for one someday, preferably after everyone had forgotten this night. He couldn’t stomach to eat anymore of it this time tho. The waitress brought them takeout boxes and they made their escape for the third time that day, having left behind a phatass tip.  
The ride home was utterly silent, but he could feel the driver’s occasional judgemental glances through the rearview mirror. He gripped the doll’s stubby hand tightly in his one hand and steadied the styrofoam to-go boxes in the other. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, offering his desperate pleas of forgiveness to the dark lord, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would all be over and he could be fucking eviscerated from this mortal coil before he could commit any further sins upon this night. Surely, his faith in Satan was being tested. He breathed out steadily. If this was indeed a test from Satan, he would sure as fucking hell pass it with flying colours. As soon as they arrived back at the Ministry, he leapt out of the limo, filled with a new determination. He paused to throw a wad of Papa bucks at the driver and offer his thanks. He also threatened the driver to never speak of this again, and then departed to be on his way. He deposited the leftovers (aka all of the food minus two bites and a frenched fry) into the communal kitchen with a note mentioning it was free for whichever lucky ghoul happened upon it first. Imagine his utter lack of surprise when a ghoul was already fast upon the leftovers before he could even shut the fridge door. The ghoul hissed at him, clutching the boxes to their chest like a gremlin, and disappeared up to the dark ceiling in a flash of ashen smoke. “Fire ghouls,” Papa muttered, walking away to his quarters.  
Once he got to his room, all the determination from before faded away when he realized he had no fucking clue what he was doing. He propped the life sized Copia plush onto his bed and started scanning the pile of packing foam, toy parts, paper, and random trash scattered upon his bed. He shoved the box onto the floor and picked up the booklet next to it. Papa spent approximately ten minutes reading through the instructions and help manual and he still managed to comprehend none of it, thanks to the home of sexual particles in his brain that denied him such a method of access to wisdom and knowledge. He tossed the booklet to the side and rummaged through all the pieces included with the doll, figuring as long as he could insert tab A into slot B, he’d be fine. “I guess my ass is about this size,” he mumbled, selecting the mid sized dildo. He paused. “When it said everything, that didn't mean… _everything_ … did it?” he asked aloud, staring in horror at the massive men's XXL dildo. Mental calculations that he didn't even understand because he was too gay ran through his mind for about two minutes while he just continued staring at the gargantuan phallic instrument, an instrument much unlike mayonnaise. Finally he shook his head. “Nah. Nope. No way.” He put away the unneeded stuff and stepped back from the bed.  
While he slowly pulled off his black tuxedo print crop top, he locked his gaze onto the Copia doll. He tried to imagine it was the real Copia, but his imagination was failing him at this moment. The doll’s expression seemed both haunted and sad, maybe a little unimpressed. The real Copia would also probably not be impressed, especially with Papa’s awful stripping skills on display as he stumbled around the room trying to get his tight as fuck skinny jeans off. He looked like two halves of a whole idiot. I mean, if you halved him, then would he actually be two halves of a whole idiot, but since he was currently _not_ halved, he was just one whole idiot. Now if the real Copia himself were present, Papa would totally split himself wide, halving himself in a different way, for his unholy excellence. No matter, once Papa was completely naked, dick out, bare assed, and all, he slid himself onto the bed and set to work on pulling the dolls shitty felt cassock off, which took significantly less time to do than it took for him to remove his own clothing. He carefully locked the selected dildo onto the doll, silently thanking Lucifer that it didn’t have his brother’s face on it. He considered his next actions carefully. He wasn’t really turned on at all at the moment, and the plush’s haunted eyes were not helping. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the doll down into the bed, imagining it was Copia instead. His mind immediately went to Copia’s performance of Mummy Dust at the Giant Center in Hershey, Pennsylvania in the year of our dark lord 2019, a performance which had not occurred yet in the timeline of this fic, but that performance could make virtually anyone horny. And it did in fact make Papa horny in this moment, as he now sported a throbbing hard on. He quickly rubbed some lube on himself before inserting his length into the doll’s built in fleshlight, moaning at the feeling. Once he was all the way in, he grimaced a bit. The utter silence from the doll pained him so he reached past the doll to grab his phone and he pressed play on his music. Only for it to scare the shit out of him as Caramelldansen blasted at an unholy volume, making him drop it. He fumbled about desperately to pick it up again and shut the music off. He sighed in relief when it went quiet. This time he was more careful with the volume level and picked a playlist he thought seemed fitting. He set his phone back down as his personal playlist “10 hours of Lofi Hip Hop Beats to Rip and Tear To” started playing. He held the potato doll down to the bed and moved his hips slowly at first, then he picked up the pace. “You-you like that, eh?” he huffed out between thrusts. Plushia did not respond so Papa did it for him. “ _Oh, oh yes, Papa, oh yeah,_ ” he whimpered, mimicking the Cardinal’s voice. He blushed hard at the words that came from his mouth. As much as he felt ashamed by them, they turned him on even more. He moved harder, faster, and maybe even a little better. “ _Ohhhh, just like that, Papa.”_ He groaned, biting his lip. “You like it when I fuck you like dis, hmm Cardinal?” He thrust deep. _”O-oh yes, please, Papa, just like that,”_ he mimicked back at himself. He could feel himself getting close. He tried to imagine the real Cardinal beneath him, coming undone. But he couldn't. It felt wrong in the moment. He pulled out suddenly, his face growing hot at the realization the roles would be reversed. The note did say to get the full experience after all. Plus he didn't really want to bust a nut inside the fucking hideous doll of all things. He offered a silent prayerful apology to Copia for calling his likeness hideous before continuing on his way. He snatched up the bottle of lube again and slicked himself up, inside and out. Since the doll couldn't exactly fuck him, he settled for just riding on top of it. Not ideal since he imagined the Cardinal would probably just pound his brains into the mattress. He certainly wished he would at least. He lowered himself onto the men's size M dong and began grinding against the squidwardopia abomination. He focused his movements so he'd hit his sweet spot and moaned when he did. “ _Hehe you want it right there, you dirty fuck?”_ He nodded in response, shuddering. He worked his cock with his hands while he grinded away. He kept whispering all kinds of filthy things to himself using the Cardinal’s tone. It wasn't the greatest impression but his imagination went a long way for once this time. Papa was so close to losing his mind. He felt so obscene doing all this, it almost made him sick and yet he was enjoying it. There was a certain thrill to it all despite the concept being fucking terrifying. He had thought he couldn't sink any lower after the small plushie incident and yet here he was getting fucked by a shitty life sized replica of his highly esteemed Cardinal, begging for more and being sent over edge by dirty words he was putting into the doll's mouth himself. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!” he cried, falling apart.”I think I'm gonna-” He didn't finish and moaned, coming in hot ropes all over the Copia doll, some finding its way to the floor. If this one night stand had ever been made into a sex tape it would probably get uploaded online under the title of “weird old man fucks ugly sex doll and cums handsfree” and if you dared get to the end of the video, you'd be disappointed to find out it wasn't actually handsfree since he was touching himself the whole time. Moving onto the story, Papa tried to catch his breath for a minute then slid off the doll. He collapsed into the pillow next to it, overcome with exhaustion. Shame began to wash over him and he closed his eyes trying to shut it out. He had no idea how he was going to give a review for this and ever be able to face a member of the Clergy again. He turned off his playlist and rolled onto his side, sighing. He would probably just try to wing it and act like nothing absolutely fucked up had happened. Perhaps this would be the catalyst for his final resignation. He didn't spend too much time thinking upon what might greet him the next day as he quickly drifted off into a fitful sleep. It had been an incredibly long day and he deserved the rest.  
His rest would be short-lived. Papa was rudely woken up in the morning by aggressive banging on his door. He shot up, panic sinking into the very depths of his soul. The lights on his clock blinked an angry 6:47am. There was no way he was gonna be able to hide anything in such a short amount of time. “HOLD ON, HOLD ON, PLEASE WAIT! I'M UHH NOT DECENT!” he cried, floundering around.  
Outside the door called an excessively loud voice, “OH WHAT’S THAT I HEAR, YOU NEED HELP?? I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!” A loud crash followed a second later as the Cardinal Copia himself wearing a nonagon infinity shirt fucking bodyslammed through the door, blowing it wide open. III only had enough time to yank a blanket over his crotch before Copia was on the scene analyzing every single evidence of the previous night’s events. He dipped two of his fingers into a puddle of sticky white liquid and licked it, squinting his eyes in concentration, calculations probably running at lightning speed through his mind as well as audio commentary provided by Mr. Krabs. After a tense 20 seconds of silence, Copia let out the most obnoxious cackle in the completely unrecorded history of cackles. “Holy shit you crazy motherfucker, you actually did it, you fucking MADLAD! YOU FUCKED MY SEX DOLL!” Papa buried his face in his hands and cowered, making himself as small as possible while Copia stepped in even closer until he was practically breathing into Papa’s ear. “So…” he continued, “now that you’ve had the _full experience,_ how many stars would you give it, hmm? Out of five of course, heheh.”  
Papa hid his face even farther, whimpering. “F-five.”  
“That’s fucked up, Terzo,” replied Cardinal “Cardi C” Copia. “And kinda hot.” Papa only cried.  
Later, he would find out that it was indeed a test by the fucking Devil himself who surely must have possessed the Cardinal for no such planned merchandise design ever existed. The United States also fell into nuclear fallout an entire 58 years early. The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Look out for a potential sequel to this sequel. I have,,,,,,,, ideas,,,,,,,


End file.
